


For Eternity

by TannimStyle



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Other, breaks cannon at times, depressed dragonborn, missed out a few quests because too much, too many characters so i didn't list them all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TannimStyle/pseuds/TannimStyle
Summary: Vashee was never a hero. He was never someone important. He was just a half nord half imperial companion member. Never going out to save the day, never winning the heart of those around him. No God took pity. Unable to lift a sword to fight, or hold a shield to protect, Vashee was considered more then a waste of space. And he didn't argue. He let himself become the onlooker, the one who stood behind the hero and all the praise they got was a minor 'thanks'. He preferred people to ignore his existence.But on one unfaithful day, Vashee found himself becoming he hero of the era. The savior the world needed.Why did faith have to like irony?





	For Eternity

The air was warm, like it was always during the summer of the second seed. The forest in Falkreth hold was quiet, no gust of a gentle breeze to make the emerald green leaves dance. Yet, the world felt as if it was dancing. The way the clouds slowly moved across the frost blue sky, how the quiet rustles of the grass as the deers trotted along rang in his ears. It was a sight to see. The pathway covered in shadows and light, drifting between the tree leaves. 

Along that path, a muscled man walked. He was a nord, no mistake about it. His hair was dark, like the colour of the dirt under each dusty grey stone. His face was sharp, the features could give a look of death to anyone they saw. He was bearded, the same bushy hair that matched his head. His eyes, one blue, one white. A scar was above the left, the white. A reminder of his battles. Of his victories. Of his time in war. He was a killer, a warrior. Yet, trailing behind him, was a boy. Just reaching the age of eight, he followed the bigger man. A father and son.

The boy wore a green jumper, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Unlike the muscular man that was his father, he was rather slim and showed no signs of aggression yet. His hair was just as dark, and his eyes just as blue. His skin was the same shade, yet he was still a boy. He still had the fat around his face that made him look so innocent. So unable to become the soldier like his father. Strapped to his belt, was a dagger. Short, lightweight and perfect for a child to train. They walked along the path, the silence like nothing before. The father turned to his son and smiled, watching his small steps catch up to him. 

It had been a birthday wish for years to take the boy to his homeland. After moving to Cyrodiil before he was born, he decided that when the boy was ready, he was to venture his homeland. While the father had argued about this idea, he was to protect his child. A father of two, and a soldier at heart. He was able to. His children, half nord half imperial, were pure to the land of Skyrim. His eldest, Morgan, never showed any interest to visiting her home again. She was raised there until the age of three, where her mother wanted to move to her home in Bruma. Morgan was eleven, already training to be a mage. Hadgar, her father, did not approve, finding the girl’s likes to the arcane arts dreadful for a nord. Her mother, on the other hand, encouraged her to do what she wished. Hadgar then decided he wanted his son to be a noble warrior. With luck, the boy wanted to be nothing more than a companion. 

“Pa, are we nearly at Whiterun yet?” The young boy asked, running up beside his large father. When he told his father he wanted to visit Skyrim to visit the mead hall, his father wasted no time preparing for the trip. 

“Soon, Vashee. Soon.” He smiled upon saying the boy’s name. When Vashee was born, Hadgar gave the honour to his life long companion, Va’shel, to name the newborn. Vashee was the name of the dark haired khajiits son, dying before he even got to see the warm sands of Elsweyr. He was then the young boy's guardian, looking after him when his parents were gone. After his father retired, and became a hunter alongside Olva, his mother, they would spend days and nights away from home, Va’shel would stay and look after the two children. He taught the young boy about the lands around him. He would read him stories of the beasts that walked among them, stories of his homeland and the legends that lived there, but most of all, he told of stories of the great Companions. The khajiit only had certain knowledge of the group, but it was enough to spark the young lads will to join them. 

Hadgar remembered that day fondly, coming home from a successful hunt, only to find his youngest child showing no interest in what had been killed, but rather the land of Skyrim, and the legendary Companions that lived there. He had never felt more proud for his child to want to become a warrior. 

As the sun grew higher in the sky, the father and his young child had finally walked into the town of Whiterun. He let out a long breath, feeling the warm sun of the second seed across his face. His child ran past his father, a look of awe across his face. The lad had never seen the beauty of this city, and his father watched as he ran and started to venture, running between the citizens and through the grey cobble stone street. It was then when he stumbled upon the mead hall. His eyes glowed, and his smile grew. It was like he had died and gone to Sovngarde. When the lad turned, his father gave him a slight nod, placing a hand on his head and walking forward, a silent way for him to ask him to follow. 

Upon walking inside, Vashee jaw had dropped. It was amazing, at least for the young boy. His stared at all the interiors, grinning and shifting on foot to foot, excitement taking over. A man walked up to his father, a man he did not yet know. His hair was white as the snow in Evening star, and his body like that of his father's. Strong. A definite Companion. He and his father spoke for a moment, before the man turned and placed his hand on his hair, ruffling it up with a smile. It was then when the young child realised, this was the harbinger. 

“So, you’re our little admirer then? Good to finally meet you.” He spoke, joy in his voice. Vashee felt a sense of protection from him, and the man turned away, once again talking to his father. The kid once again looked around, now walking to the long table around the fireplace. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two young boys by the staircase. For a moment, he thought he was imagining things, the two being completely identical, but soon he realised, they were identical twins. They sat by the way down, talking in hushed tones. Neither noticed Vashee’s existence, staying focused on each other. They must’ve been a few years older than him, possibly five at the most. Before he could go over and introduce himself, his father took him by the hand and with a slight look of disappointment, he spoke. “C’mon kiddo, we better start heading home. It’ll be a long journey and we've been travelling all day.” Before Vashee could argue, his father pulled him away, giving his farewells before they left.

It was roughly three in the morning when they arrived back home, Hadgar being able to walk faster by carrying his son most of the way, letting him sleep. It was a peaceful night, and the nord man wanted nothing more to be home with his wife and children, sitting by the fireplace and relaxing. But, through the trees to his cabin home, he saw flickering lights. At first, he thought nothing of it, but coming closer, the man felt a sense of urgency he had never felt before. He started running, waking his son in the process by accident. It when then when the two saw it. The cabin was aflame. A group of tall men surrounded it, and screams could be heard.

“Hadgar! Hadgar!” A lady screamed, tears rolling down her pale face. The tall men turned, their golden yellow armour glistening in the flames. There, it could be seen, Two men, or he thought they were, Vashee couldn’t make it out. The flames from the fire and the shine of their armour obstructed his view of their faces. But they held his sister and mother. Hadgar frowned deeply, placing his son down in a bush, before rushing away, sword pulled out and ready for a battle. 

Vashee tried to watch from his hiding spot, yet while without getting detected by any of these enemies. It was then when he felt a hand grab onto his shirt collar, pulling him up and away from the scene. The boy screamed, thinking he had been spot and taken, but he heard that familiar voice. 

“Quiet my child, khajiit will protect you and your family.” Va’shel spoke, his midnight black fur slightly lightened by the embers of his home. The khajiit placed him on his horse, before pulling out his sword and joining his companion once again in the heat of a battle. 

It was all a blur from then. The boy's mother and sister escaping and riding the horse away, leaving him to watch his burning house disappear in the distance, along with his father and guardian. 

_Eleven years later_

Vashee sat at his bed, listening to the footsteps of the members walk around the building. His eyes stared at his iron boots, made by his mother when he left Cyrodiil to Skyrim, joining the Companions like he had always wanted to. It had been a few weeks now, his presence in the guild was nothing like he hoped it to be. He was given very few jobs, most of them being so simple a child could complete them.

Right now, he was waiting. Kodlak said he might be able to find a job for him. One that wasn’t to beat up a merchant or find a missing heirloom. He waited impatiently, listening to each step everyone made. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of feet walk towards him when he looked up, eyes made contact with Kodlak's, a smile across the bearded man's face. Vashee sat up, his dirt brown hair sticking up in places, with his long parts he always forgot to cut tied into a small plait on his left side of his head. He had a scar going across his left eye, just like his father. He was not blinded, but he could still feel the blades sharp edge whenever he blinked. 

“Before you judge me, do know I tried to find better. But most are taken by now. I’ve had word from some guards that assistance is needed in Helgen. Apparently Ulfric has been caught and should be arriving at any given moment. I gave them my world I shall send my finest Companion. Please, Vashee, do not let me regret my decision.” The mixed race stared at the nord in front of him, an eyebrow raised before he spoke. “You… you’re saying I just have guard duty? Again?” He sighed heavily and stood up, walking past the harbinger and scowled. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll stand in the back, I won’t speak and I definitely won’t pull out my sword.”

“That isn’t what I meant Vashee. You know it.” But, when the man turned, he had already left, leaving Kodlak to shake his head and walk into his room.

Vashee walked through the town of Riverwood and along the path to Helgen, eyes focused to the ground in anger. Sure, he never cared that he got important jobs, but would it _kill_ Kodlak to give him a rescue mission? Or to kill a bandit leader? Something that could give him a little more pride in himself, as no one else did. Ever since his father died, his mother begged him not to become a warrior, to leave her and die like his father had. Vashee had ignored her pleas, and she gave in, allowing him to go, but the worry never left her. His sister had gone to be a mage, and now she was left alone along with her dog, Bruce, being her only thing to care over now. 

Vashee was just about at Helgen when he heard the most horrific roar in all the land. Looking up, his eyes fell on the darkest beast he ever saw. He was as black as the night, and as ferocious as… as… a dragon! By the divines, was that a dragon? It was impossible. They had been gone for longer than he knew. Vashee watched as this thing flew overhead, away from Helgen, the town had smoke rising and fire burning. The mixed race stared at it for what seemed like an era, until he heard a voice calling for help by a nearby cave. It was almost as if he was no longer in control, as he found himself rushing to aid whoever was calling. 

Inside the cave, full of skeletal remains, a man laid in pain. He was an imperial soldier, he recognised his armour. Upon seeing him, and the blood that dripped from his chest, Vashee reached into his fur sack, finding a minor potion of healing inside. The man let out a few stray words, but he paid no attention, placing the potion to his lips and letting it do his work. Once he was healed, the imperial soldier stood up, looking at the boy who had rescued him, before he started to make his way out of the cave, Vashee following behind in confusion.

“W-wait up!” He called after, looking at the man as he stopped in his tracks. “W-who are you… what happened?” The soldier looked up at the skies before back down at the boy. His face was stern and scared.

“I’m Hadvar. Imperial soldier. We had just captured Ulfric and he was about to be executed… but… then that thing attacked.”

“What thing?"

Hadvar looked at him right in the eye. “The dragon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the ending seems a little rushed, I was just so excited to post this story! Please leave feedback about what you think and I'll publish the next chapter soon!!
> 
> ~Ethan


End file.
